He is Rajan, my friend from Madurai, Tamil Nadu We were living in two adjacent rooms in the Hostel. I was a Research Scholar, working in a Project for Viscosity Co-efficient of Polymer Solutions. He was doing his Post Graduation in Life Science with Natasha. Along with the Curriculum of Life Science he was well ahead of the Science of Life with her. Natasha was from Vadodara, Gujarat.
Let me hurry through what all I had gathered from him. It all happened during their Project Work in the 2nd (Final Year) of study. The Project was on Butterflies. With butterfly nets in each hand they used to go together, generally in mornings, for catching butterflies. One morning, while aiming to catch with nets in each one's hand, both did not know that they were aiming for the same butterfly. The obvious happened. She fell on him. See, how nature also played a role. Had he fallen on her, they would have rushed to a hospital to an orthopedic. "She is so thin and fragile" he told me from first-hand experience. But she fell on him. Rajan was shy. Little bit of touching here and there is fine. But the whole thing!!. No No. He could not look at her.
In seconds, before he could understand what was happening, she caught hold of his head and squarely kissed him on his lips. It seems she remained there for sometime. Rest is history. Initially, I could not comprehend this when Rajan told me. In our part of India during my good old days, this was not understandable. What is not understandable, dear readers is "a girl is taking this initiative". But when I accidentally reached Gujarat for my job after about 7 months, I realized, it must have happened. No big deal. This was about 39 years back. Now, for sure I cannot say with certainty who can take what initiative.
Difficult for me to remember the dates. But it was somewhere during the month of May when the course was ending. Around 3 pm, I returned to the hostel. I found Rabi the hostel attendant was crying. Rabi and Rajan were very fond of each other. Their love for each other grew in leaps and bounds during their two years of being with each other. Rajan and Rabi were often found excitedly talking to each other in high pitch. Rajan in Tamil and Rabi in Odiya. All of us enjoyed their animated discussions. But that day he was pence. His eyes were moist. He told me that Rajan hurriedly left, did not even look at him. He said "Sir something is wrong. I was told by the rickshaw pullers standing at the gate that he headed for Railway Station." His last paper of the semister was after 12 days. His leaving now is suicidal. I also had a fear that he might jump in front of the train to commit suicide.
I just managed to reach the last platform in the station of 4 platforms where one train was coming from Calcutta, now Kolkata. I could see Rajan standing in the corner of the platform on the side where the train is approaching. I ran and caught hold of him pressing him tightly on my chest. He struggled to get free from me for a few seconds. The engine crossed both of us. He struggled for some time. Then gave up. Putting his head on my shoulder he cried. "She is leaving for home. I tried very hard to convince but failed. Now she does not want to talk to me. What to do with this life. I do not want to live any longer".
The train readied to start. I was relaxed that he has been able to speak and cry. He must now be feeling lighter. The train caught momentum. When the last two compartments remained, suddenly he pushed me and jumped into the train from the front door. I was dumbfounded. Without any loss pf time, I too jumped inside from the rear door of the compartment. Immediately I Came running to him. We both sat for a long time without talking. The train stopped in between Khurdha and Keshpur stations for a long time because of some breakdown near Chhatrapur. That is where he opened up over a glass of coffee. Spoke about so many things. He said he had actually come to commit suicide. Had I not caught hold of him when the train entered he would have jumped in front of the engine. I, in turn, used all my life's philosophy to convince him. His father was no more. Perhaps what all I said lastly about his mother finally convinced him.
Finally he turned sober. We reached an understanding that at Berhampur, I get down and buy a ticket for him to Madras, now Chennai and a return ticket for me to Bhubaneswar. So far we were without ticket. He promised that he will go home, meet his mother and return. I did as directed.
I was waiting in the station in that fateful night to return back to Bhubaneswar. I was carrying a Jhulla, a hanging cloth bag which I used to carry to college. My dairy was there. I opened my dairy to note down what all happened. The dairy immediately opened in the middle and I found a poem written in those pages. During those about 10 hours we were in the train. I had been to toilet several times. I did not know when he wrote. The title was also given. "Unfinished Poem". The poem goes as below: (Original diary copy also follows) .
Unfinished Poem * |
*Small corrections made by my knowledge of him. |
O my dear! Beloved stranger Here is the end of that that
unfinished poem On that last spring evening My Garden’s deep red tulips Reminded
me those lovely two lips When I whispered that poem of Tulips to
thou Upon
our wet two
lips Thus that poem remained incomplete Under environmental storm our boat Faced the silver frothing
Of agitated sea |
The hull withstood the Faltering
of waves But the gentle sail in the
wind You......................................... Now the hull has started its Eternal Voyage to the fathomless
depth of inky sea, Trees are waving their leaf –
flags to say goodbye to their old friend to cover my black coffin But where is my lovely tulip to complete my Unfinished
Poem? |
To be on a safe side I give a disclaimer. "Resemblances to any one's life is not intended to cause any harm and may please be ignored".
Important recent happenings:
Mumbai Railways to start building its first "Pod" hotel by September end this year.
Restarting train traffic requires spending crores of rupees. The batteries of coaches that have been lying idle at stations need replacement.
That is a beautiful narration and touchingly written. Getting exposed this side of you and happy to welcome you to the world of bloggers. Interesting that you have selected the same background for your blog as mine.
ReplyDeleteThat is a beautiful narration and touchingly written. Getting exposed this side of you and happy to welcome you to the world of bloggers. Interesting that you have selected the same background for your blog as mine.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Sir Recently got inspired to write.
ReplyDeleteHow beautiful is that......poetic melancholy
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for your observation. I request you to take a look at my other blog posts too.
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